


What about Annabel Lee?

by kuutar (teapertti)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Goats, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapertti/pseuds/kuutar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was him, there was Armin and there was Annabel Lee. One of them didn't fit in the equation, so Jean decided that something had to be done about the goat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What about Annabel Lee?

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Entä sitten Annabel Lee?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4654287) by [teapertti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapertti/pseuds/teapertti). 



> This story is based on a suggestion made by Aespren who edits my English language translations. Even though this fic combines my two passions that are jearmin and goats, it took me a long time to get it published. In the end, it's a pretty miserable story. (This is a translation of the original Author Notes. For notes on the translation, see the bottom of the page.)

"Lamb?" Armin asked as he watched the roast that had been placed in the middle of the table. He used his index finger to move around a tall wine glass that stood among the rather tasteless IKEA tableware with green decoration on the borders. Without haste, Jean opened a bottle of pinot noir before he said:

"Yeah. It's Easter, after all." He poured the wine into the glasses with precision that seemed laid-back. It was the Easter Monday, and he couldn't imagine a better way to spend the day than eating together with Armin. Jean himself had eaten lamb roast with his parents on the preceding day, but he had taken with him some of the tasty dish his mother had prepared in order to give Armin his share, too. His parents lived abroad, so he had spent the Easter holidays by himself.

Armin knitted his eyebrows as he watched the roast. It made Jean think of a picky child that was being forced to try something new.

"You never eat lamb? Not even on Easter?" he asked in a surprised tone while trying to mask the slight annoyance he was feeling.

"Hm, no," Armin replied and scented his glass of wine before sipping. He had a break before continuing:

"We used to have a geep here." Jean's butter knife halted over a loaf of rye bread.

"A geep?" he asked.

"A hybrid between a goat and a sheep. They're very rare, you see, a farm owner gave him to us since he couldn't get milk or wool from him..." Armin told him in a dreamy tone. Jean was starting to feel frustrated. So Armin didn't eat lamb because it reminded him of his precious pets? Jean looked at the food he had brought, and the thought of eating Annabel Lee pleased him.

"I'm sorry Armin, I didn't consider..." he began.

"It's okay. I can eat the sauce with potatoes," Armin replied hastily and reached to the bowl where the potatoes were. There were a lot of other dishes on the table, but for Jean lamb had always been the most important part of the Easter dinner. For him Armin's plate seemed inevitably lacking. Jean's mother would have thought that he was picky, and she would've wondered why a person with such good manners would refuse to eat food prepared by someone else.

Eating in the kitchen of Armin's country house was much different from eating in the two room apartment Jean owned.There was room for over eight peoplearound the table.On paper the house belonged to Armin's parents, but they had moved to Spain a couple of years ago, so in practice the house was his. When Jean had asked about his family, Armin had replied: "Just me and Annabel Lee." Before visiting the house Jean had guessed that Annabel Lee was a dog and rejoiced that they both were dog persons. Indeed, Annabel Lee had brown floppy ears and a wagging tail. But it truly wasn't a dog, but a Boer goat that weighed almost 100 kilograms and lived in the enormous, fenced backyard of Armin's house.

Summer had not been far off when Jean remembered first driving in his Honda through the green oat and grass fields towards the red brick house where Armin lived. There had been countless fields and animal pastures on the way, and the scenery had started to bore him soon enough. The car tires had left marks in the gravel road. Jean himself lived in a bigger city about a half an hour ride away, and except for passing through he had never visited the surrounding rural municipalities. Armin had walked to the side of the road in order to meet him there and adeptly guided him to the house.

They had met each other on the day Armin had marched into the barber shop Jean worked in. In his rubber boots and flannel shirt he had sat in his chair and asked for a haircut. According to his own words, he cut his hair once in a year and then let the hair grow long like the sedge that grew on the fringes of crops. Washing his hair had felt odd to Jean; furtively among his work he had watched the face of his customer in the mirror and thought by himself how he could start a conversation with him. Finally when he was blow-drying his hair he had managed to ask his phone number. Armin had turned his head to give him a puzzled look, with the fluffy hair, cropped to reach his ears, framing his face. Four days after this Jean had sent his mother a message where he said he believed that he was in love.

On that first visit Armin had carefully opened the  gate that led to the backyard, and then Jean had seen Annabel Lee for the first time. The goat doe had run towards him in full speed and Jean had realized just in time that it had the intention of ramming him. He had closed the gate and stayed outside. Armin had grabbed the anxious goat from its horns.

"She's just unsure. Go inside, I'll hold her." Interacting with animals did not bother Armin, as it shouldn't, for he had graduated as a veterinarian two years ago. Jean had also came to know that Armin had grown up among goats. The family had once had a dairy goat farm; the surrounding fields had belonged to them and there had grazed a herd of about twenty goats. The animals had mainly been a hobby to the family and the parents had sold the goats several years ago and the land also before they had moved away to Spain. But for some reason or another Annabel Lee had stayed and still grazed in the yard of the house.

Before this Jean had never seen a living goat, at least not that close. He had eyed the animal as he crossed the yard. It was huge; he had imagined goats being much smaller. Later Armin had explained that Boer goats were raised for their meat and that's why they're so big. It was surprising that lean Armin could hold such a muscular goat still. But on the other hand, for Annabel Lee he was like a mother. A long time ago Armin had driven his moped to a farm that raised meat goats and stolen the smallest kid, wrapped it in his jacket and taken to his heels. When entering the house Jean couldn't help noticing on the mantelpiece a photo where the fifteen-year-old Armin was bottle-feeding Annabel Lee when it had been so small that it could fit in its owner's lap.

"Are you planning to steal more goats in the future?" Jean had asked after seeing the photo and hearing the story of Annabel Lee. Armin had chuckled, perhaps a little embarrassed.

"No, I'm not", he had replied and poured some more coffee. The interior of the house was cozy; very different from Jeans's two-room apartment in the city center, or even the house where his parents lived. There were rag rugs on the floor; the table was long and wooden and on its sides there were two wide benches. The brown coffee cups, that looked like they were made in the 70s, were placed on a white cloth. If Jean hadn't known who lived in the house, he would've guessed that it belonged to some old lady.

After this Jean had visited the house many times, and even though he generally liked visiting Armin, meeting Annabel Lee was never a delightful experience for him. When hearing the sound of his car the goat would run to the gate in order to see him, sticking its ugly, brown face through the gap of the wooden fence and champing its goat teeth. If Jean tried to step to the backyard, Annabel Lee would try to ram him. At some point Armin had tried to make the goat get used to Jean by putting a rope around its neck and walking it towards him. Annabel Lee had tried to bite a piece of Jean's shirt, and he had decided that he wouldn't dare to go near it anymore. The goat would stay outside and Jean inside.

Unfortunately he often woke up in Armin's bed to the realization that Annabel Lee was looking at their sleep through the big bedroom window.

"Your goat has no sense of privacy," Jean said as he watched the half-naked Armin making fried eggs in the kitchen.

"Annabel Lee is a gregarious animal. She feels lonely, being all alone on the outside", Armin said and smoothed his blonde hair behind the ear. Jean looked at him, feeling no shame; at the narrow curve of his white calf and the nice contrast it made with the black edge of the shirt. He felt like his heart would break, maybe from joy. Armin oh Armin, a man graceful as a fireweed growing in the clayey field, lovely as the life itself, he cheerfully thought to himself.

"She has no one else except me anymore," Armin continued and turned his gaze to the yard, seemingly unnerved.

Sometimes Armin visited Jean's home, but only for a short while and he never stayed overnight. He feared for his pet.

"She isn't accustomed to staying alone, so she might get anxious and run away," he explained to Jean who was visibly irritated. He couldn't understand how this lazy ruminant that sprawled day by day on the grass could escape over the fence. Driving through the endless line of fields was rather exhausting to Jean; he wanted to be with Armin in the city, too. There wasn't even anything to do in the countryside. Armin's only hobby seemed to be reading books after the long working hours. He did his shopping in the small village near to his house and went to Jean's hometown only once or twice in year. Jean couldn't understand how he didn't grow tired with the endless sea of the ears of wheat and the numerous herds of livestock, or the total silence that fell over the darkening night of the countryside.

Jean thought that even his own hometown sometimes felt too small and too confined, and the faces there too familiar and boring. He had visited the capital a couple of times and felt as if he was a stranger but still belonged there somehow. The noise wouldn't cease even during the night time; exhaust fumes smelled and one never felt agoraphobic. Jean's friends who lived there would probably laugh at the thought of someone having a goat as a pet. Sometimes when Jean looked at the twenty-year-old Mazda Armin drove he wondered what the people living in the city thought about such a lifestyle. Armin had been reluctant to join the outings Jean had with his friends; he said he liked it more when there was just the two of them. Jean had mentioned his relationship in a passing conversation with his colleagues in their co-owned barber shop, but mostly he had kept his lover distant from the other important people in his life. Armin's territory was like a bubble that was completely detached from his life with others.

After leaving the house on the evening of Easter Monday Jean stopped to look at Annabel Lee: at its legs that were sticking out in all directions; at its arched horns. He no longer wondered why a goat had become the symbol of the Devil. Even the sound it made did not correspond with the soft bleating he had been accustomed to in children's movies,but truly resembled more the death rattle of a soul that dwelled in peril of damnation. The night was only growing dimmer even though they had been up late talking to each other and enjoying each other's presence. Everywhere there was just silence, and the steady hum of the car seemed to fill the whole space as he accelerated forward among the fields and pastures towards the main road. Jean noticed that he had never before thought about how much there was all of it: crops, grass and lakes.

Some days after Easter Armin came to see Jean in his workplace, without saying anything beforehand. Surprised, Jean stared at him. Armin blushed a bit and said:

"So... It's time for a haircut." He sat into Jean's chair and glanced at him from the corner of his eye; he even smiled a little. The faded smell of livestock had stuck to him, understandably, for he spent his days in the local cowsheds and stables day after day because of his job. The smell didn't bother him that much after having gotten used to it, Jean noticed while washing his boyfriend's hair. Armin wasn't in the mood for chatting; Jean had remarked during their year-long acquaintance that he has difficulties getting any words out among people he didn't know. Jean observed his colleagues carefully while working. What would they think about this?

Armin seemed so different, much younger, after his straw-colored hair had been shortened to the bob length and the bangs once again reached his bushy eyebrows. Jean had tried asking him why he always wanted to cut his hair in the same way and then let it grow for a year. Armin had shrugged.

"That's how I've always done it."

Jean decided to have a lunch break after he was finished cutting Armin's hair and they went for a walk in the town. The cool spring weather and drizzle made the streets look bleak; people stood under the roofs of the shops and glowered at each other. Jean fretted that he had forgotten his umbrella in the barbershop. Armin obviously did not have one with him, for he only used umbrella when it was pouring rain. Well, he didn't have gel in his hair that could get ruined with water contact. Armin walked onwards with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"What are you thinking about?" Jean asked after a silence that had lasted a few moments.

"Wondering if I should go to the hardware store," Armin replied. Jean hoped that he would end up with the conclusion that he shouldn't, because he himself hated hardware stores. They were large and dark and held nothing interesting inside them. In addition, Jean didn't consider a hardware store very nice place for a romantic date.

"Let's go eat first," he suggested with a silent voice. Armin didn't answer anything; he just walked forward, staring at the tips of his boots. Jean had inquired once how long Armin had owned those black rubber boots. He had looked at the boots for a long time and said finally that he didn't remember when he had gotten them. Jean had seriously considered buying him the stylish yellow boots he had seen in a store for his birthday. He wasn't really sure what was overwhelmingly interesting to Armin besides books and goats. So, the new, a bit more fashionable rubber boots would be a rather safe choice.

It started to rain harder, and Armin stopped to pull his collar up. The water made his freshly cut hair flatten and run along his head; the raindrops got caught in his eyelashes and eyebrows. Jean felt the rain and also tenderness falling over him. He took Armin by hand and pulled him closer, kissing his lips. Armin looked at him with astonishment, and then he kissed him in turn, deeply and ardently. Jean looked at the tip of his trembling nose and his periwinkle-blue eyes and decided that he could learn to like hardware stores and rubber boots and the smell of livestock, just for his sake. They walked ahead; the water splashed under the soles of their shoes.

\--

Jean watched the grazing cows, putting his hands deep in his pockets. He had come to pick Armin up from work; he was helping the owner in the cowshed. When he finally stepped out, in his worn jeans and worn sweater and boots covered in crap, Jean understood how inseparable he was from this landscape. He tried to imagine himself in those black rubber boots and jeans that had a hole in them. That didn't work out. Then he tried picture Armin wearing skinny jeans. That worked out much better. Perhaps everybody grew to resemble their own landscape, and Armin, he would eventually become one of the city people after he had made his home there. So, there was hope. But they would have to talk about it, and that was where that's when troubles made themselves known.

Annabel Lee wagged its short white tail when it saw Armin and walked to the gate to meet him there. Jean voluntarily used the front door, but stayed at the porch, watching Armin bending down to scratch the area between the drooping ears and the curvy horns of the goat. His hair had already grown a bit longer from the day after Easter when Jean had cut it; soon the bangs would cover his eyes and he would start to sweep them to the side. His hair was like the oats in the fields; from its goldengrowth one could tell the seasons of the year that never changed. Jean toyed with the idea of shaving a side-cut into Armin's hair while he was sleeping. Would it be the same to a crop circle in the vast field; a disturbance among something untouched that remained forever?

The upholstery of the couch had a retro plaid pattern in it. Jean listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen; Armin was making coffee. He made it really strong, and Jean put a particularly large amount of milk in it. But actually he thought the coffee tasted better that way anyhow. Armin brought the full coffee cups in and placed them on the table, followed by a carton of milk. He looked at Jean with an uneasy expression and rubbed his hands together before sitting down and taking a coffee cup in his hands. Jean didn't touch his own but instead threw his arm over Armin's shoulder and pulled him close to himself; the hot coffee spilled into his lap.

"Should I heat up the sauna?" Armin said and was about to jump up from the couch.

"Let's do it later," Jean suggested and reached to take his coffee. They sipped their drinks; Armin drank his coffee black, and Jean with milk and sugar. He watched as Armin raised the cup to his lips, quivering from the heat but drank still, even though the result was probably a burned tongue.

"Have... Have you thought of coming with me to the city?" Jean finally managed to say aloud the thought he had been considering for a while now. Armin raised his eyebrows.

"You mean like now?" he asked in a surprised tone. Jean sighed under his breath.

"No, but like... moving in with me. We both are pretty well-off. We could well buy an apartment together. You wouldn't have to give up this one," he said in a very fast pace and had to fill his lungs after that. Armin fumbled the coffee cup with a thoughtful expression on his face. Suddenly Jean felt dispirited. Armin loved this place; otherwise he wouldn't still be living there.

"We could come here for weekends..."  he tried.

"What about Annabel Lee, then? She can't come to the city", Armin asked and looked into Jean's eyes. He imagined the goat eavesdropping on their conversation somewhere on the other side of the wall. Jean lowered his gaze to the edge of the table; he inspected the tablecloth made of white lace. The message went through even without words.

"You wouldn't know what it's like to go to school where everyone knows each other... I mean, in my youth, when we had a middle school here and the pupils hadn't been transferred to the city. It was a narrow-minded place, Jean. During those years I had nobody else than Annabel Lee. Nobody else," Armin said. Jean understood what he meant, and felt something in the pit of his stomach. Annabel Lee had been in his life for a long time; Jean had been there for barely a year. But it wasn't a young goat anymore, and it certainly wouldn't live forever.

"It's unfortunate that you live here, it's so far away," Jean said in a hoarse voice. He looked as Armin drank his coffee with his eyes closed. He put the cup on the table. _Thump._  The sound came out louder that it actually was.

"Don't you realize how self-centered you are? You act like _I_ was the one living far away because we live a distance away from each other. Guess what? I think you should leave your life in the city, if you truly like me so much!" Armin said in a vexed tone. He didn't raise his voice – Jean had never heard him do so, and he wasn't sure if he even could. But he sure was angry. Jean felt how his heartbeat grew faster and his hands started to sweat.

"Easy for you to say, you're not even an entrepreneur. You're such a typical academic, and you have absolutely no idea how much I work for my salary! You think  I can actually move away from my barber shop?" he snapped as a response. Armin glared at him from the corner of his eye and crossed his arms. Jean wanted to force him to look at him, to face the whole matter eye-to-eye. He was probably one of those people who would hide away when they noticed that the situation was turning into a fight.

"I'll go to heat up the sauna," Armin said and placed his hand on the couch in order to stand up. Jean grabbed his arm, preventing him from leaving.

"Do you love that stupid goat more than you love me?" he asked in a low voice. Armin’s hand shivered as he sat back down on the couch. He stared at his feet. Jean didn't let his arm go; he wished that he never would have to.

"That's not fair. Totally not fair. I wouldn't come to rip your arm off and then cry how you don't love me," Armin said slowly and wiped away a tear that hand ran down to his cheek with his sleeve. Jean noticed that his grip on the arm was loosening. Suddenly he felt anxious; something gnawed at him. For a moment he thought of hugging Armin, but something inside him told him that it wouldn't be of any help. Jean felt his skin breaking out in goosebumps, and now he understood it: Armin wouldn't leave Annabel Lee as long as it lived, for Annabel Lee was a part of his past, and he wasn't one of those who look to the future, but dwelled on past instead.

"We should just talk about this later. Tomorrow, maybe. Or next week..." Armin said suddenly. The tone of his voice had turned cold, as if he had a lot of other things to say but kept his mouth shut, barely out of courtesy. Jean kept quiet for a long time and then said:

"Yeah, let's talk about it later." Armin followed him as he went to the hallway. After putting on his shoes Jean turned to look at him for a brief moment; at his somberly distant face; at the bangs that that had fallen to cover his eyes. It was already dim outside, and in the house there was only one light on.

Gravel rasped under his soles as Jean walked to his car. The kitchen light went on; Armin hadn't stayed in the hallway to think about things or to consider running after him. The white sides of Annabel Lee shone next to the gate in the backyard, and Jean saw the goat's head peeking through the gaps of the fence. He felt something surging up inside him.

"Annabel Lee, you evil Jezebel! You can keep him, then!" he yelled. Annabel Lee shook its head and curled its upper lip, revealing the gum under it. Jean was sure that it was the goat’s way of laughing. He stepped into the car, slammed the door shut and drove out of the yard. The fields surrounding the road seemed to go on endlessly, like the feeling of despair. And even if a disturbance , supernatural or man-made, appeared in the middle of them, slowly and surely it would disappear as the years passed, both from the world and from memory. The field would again become untouched as long as the cycle of sowing and harvest continued. Jean braked when he saw the sign that pointed to the city The motor died down; Jean stared at the hazy summer night and thought of goats and crop circles and how those could never be a part of his world.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what can I say? Aespren did good job with the editing as always, thank you! The translation lacks some details relating to Finnish culture that wouldn't be that clear for non-Finnish readers. Nothing major, really.


End file.
